Terminal Honesty
by Neneithel
Summary: After the loss of the Liberator, Avon and Cally discuss their situation.


_**Terminal Honesty.**_

So, Blake was dead. It should have been a relief. With Blake had died any debts Avon might still owe him. With Blake had died all chance that Avon would be seduced by irrational dreams. Blake had believed and he was dead. Avon's cynicism had kept him alive. He could not have saved Blake and need feel no guilt at his death. They had never been friends, so the aching emptiness could not be grief. After Anna, whatever was left to him of tenderness had turned to stone. He was tired and disappointed, but he could not be grieving.

Servalan's death should have felt better too. He should have enjoyed it. Instead, it felt like she had won She had known better than he did that he would follow Blake. She had used a weakness he had never acknowledged to himself. Even worse, she had told him so, mocking him for his loyalty to Blake.

At some point, in some way, scorn had given way to trust. He may never have believed in the cause, but he had come to believe in Blake. He looked at Blake's image on the screen. It seemed stupid that Blake had died on some minor world in a fight Avon had not even known about. It ... well, it felt wrong. He smiled as he imagined what he would say if Cally said something so senseless.

He went back to the room where he had spoken to Servalan. He sat where he had sat then and reminded himself that when they left Terminal, they would be free of Blake. Blake was now just a harmless memory, unable to manipulate or influence anyone. Looked at dispassionately, his death could even be useful. The mantle of leadership would, in the eyes of Cally and Vila, pass naturally to Avon. Cally would still want to fight the Federation, and there was no reason why they shouldn't, but in a moderate way, defending their own freedom by striking at those most likely to take it from them. He could humour Cally.

A sound in the doorway made him turn. Cally was coming in. She looked dishevelled and tired. He stood.

"I thought you'd be asleep." she said.

"Did you?"

"Or at least pretending to be."

"Ah." Their eyes met. There seemed to be little point in either attempting to deceive. They knew each other too well. He knew that the loss of the Liberator was more to her than the destruction of a useful ship. He knew that news of Blake's death had hit her hard. She knew, better than anyone, better, perhaps, than him, that he had come to depend on Blake. She knew that he had ended up trusting Blake. She knew that Blake's trust in him had changed things.

"Tomorrow, they'll expect you to have a plan." she said.

"I'll have one, tomorrow." he replied.

"And now?"

"Now, I have nothing." he said.

"Coming from you, that's quite an admission."

"Well, we knew Blake might be dead. It was always a realistic possibility."

"Yes." said Cally.

"Servalan might have lied."

"Do you think she did?"

He looked away, tempted to tell a lie of his own. His eyes met hers again and he said, "No. No, I'm afraid she seemed to mean it."

"So Blake is dead." She spoke calmly. Anyone who didn't know her would think her untroubled by the thought. Having no way to comfort her, Avon chose to be deceived. They stood a couple of feet apart, each aware of the other's pain, each unable to offer anything but this pretence that the weakness had not been noticed.

"Blake is dead." said Avon. He needed to say it, to convince himself that it was true.

"We're still here."

"And stuck here, probably."

"That isn't what I meant." said Cally, "As you said, we knew he might be dead. Nothing has changed."

"Except that I lost us the Liberator."

"And killed Servalan. A high price, but probably worth paying. Will you leave us, Avon?"

"Do you care?"

Cally fixed him with a gaze that seemed to look easily beyond all his misdirections. "Avon, you know I do. So do the others. Why do you think we came after you? And you care about us, or you wouldn't have wanted us to stay away."

"Maybe I didn't want to share what Blake had found." he said. He sank onto the seat again.

Cally sat beside him. "It's possible they'd believe that. We can try that one."

Avon nodded. "I have always admired your perspicacity. You see right through me."

"We have a lot in common."

"No, we don't!" said Avon too quickly, "Cally, you're nothing like me. If you were, I doubt I'd like you so much. Blake liked you too."

"Blake gave me a life. On Saurian Major ... "

"I know. Don't talk about that. Forget it."

"Forget it? Have you forgotten anything in your life?"

"I wish I could, but not talking about it helps." said Avon.

"Does it?" Cally seemed unconvinced.

"What we can't change, we must live with."

"Of course, if we can live with it."

They both looked away. After a while, Cally said, "We both needed Blake. I needed a reason to go on, you needed someone to believe in."

"I never believed." he said.

"Never?"

He smiled, "Well, hardly ever. Blake was a fool. He cared about other people. They always let him down. Other people always do."

A faint, sad smile flickered on her lips and was gone. They were silent for a while and Avon wished he had it left in him to say something kind, to make her feel he had not included her in that "other people" and that he trusted her. He did trust her, as Cally, but she was also a telepath who had certain weaknesses, and though he knew she would not choose to betray him, he could not say to her that he completely trusted her. He thought of taking her hand, but it would be too human a gesture and too likely to bring out other aspects of humanity.

Very softly, she said, "Blake didn't let you down."

He had not expected that. He looked into her eyes, warily, wondering what else she might say to shatter his certainties. He thought about it. "Blake ..." he began. He stopped. He looked around the room, his eyes seeking anything but the understanding in her eyes. He clung to certainties. "Blake is dead."

"Is that a betrayal?" she asked.

"Perhaps the worst." he said, "Cally, he shouldn't have died like this."

"He didn't choose it."

"Didn't he? He held his life very cheaply."

"No, he just valued other things more."

"Freedom for the common man!" said Avon, glad he could still keep the mocking tone in his voice.

"And for uncommon men, like you."

"And he's dead." said Avon, "And all his wild dreams died with him."

"Can a dream die?" she asked.

"All mine did." he said.

"I've held onto mine." she said, "A bit battered, but all still there."

"Perhaps you can salvage Blake's." said Avon.

"Blake's dreams are shared by many. They will not die."

"Dreams are heartless things, if they live on when a man like Blake is dead." He was surprised at himself for saying it, but no surprise showed on Cally's face.

"He would want them to. See it as an act of loyalty, the last thing they can do for him. He loved them. He would have wanted them to go on without him."

"Loyalty is overrated." said Avon.

"Then why do you long for it so much?" asked Cally.

"Perhaps I am a fool." he said, unable at that moment to deny that he did.

Cally looked at him with a smile and said, "He trusted you, as I do."

"Much good it did him." said Avon.

"He needed you. He would have achieved far less without you."

"He achieved death, that's all. The Federation still stands, it was always going to." He felt bad for saying it and worried that she might lose hope.

She didn't. Instead, she said, "Bek is free, Albian is free."

"One person or one world at a time. Do you know how long freeing the whole Federation would take?"

"One person matters. You're free because of Blake. Doesn't it matter to you?"

"You call this freedom?" he said.

"Yes, I call this freedom. You came here freely. When you leave, you can go wherever you want."

"You think any of us will leave?"

She smiled, "One small artificial planet couldn't hold both you and Tarrant. You'll each blast off using the force of pure ego, if you have to."

"It's not ego. He irritates me."

"Of course." she said, sounding unconvinced,

"It's true!"

"I agreed with you." she said, still smiling her infuriating smile.

He smiled too, for a moment. "Cally ..." he said.

She touched his arm, "Blake achieved a lot. His memory will achieve even more. Dreams can live longer than any of us."

"With our present life-expectancy, that's not surprising." He thought of Blake, of Blake's death. No doubt, there had been people with him, fighting for him as the gullible and idealistic always did. "If we had been with Blake," he said, "He might still be alive."

"Perhaps." said Cally.

"If we had found him after we got separated, things would have been different."

"We could chase ifs all night." she said, "Regret is part of being alive, but keep it a small part."

"I don't know what to do." he said, not an admission he would normally have made, even to Cally.

"Blake trusted you and so do we." she said.

"Even though Blake is dead?"

"He didn't die of trusting you." said Cally, "That's one burden you don't need to carry."

He was sure the others, with the possible exception of Vila, would never have guessed there might be guilt for him. Cally's ability to understand him made him nervous, but there, in the midst of the misery, it felt comforting to be so understood.

"We should sleep." said Cally, "There's a lot to be done tomorrow."

"Don't tell the others."

"Tell them what?" she said, "I haven't seen you all night."

"Goodnight, Cally." he said.

"It's not over." she said, "It doesn't end with Blake, or with any of us."

_The End._


End file.
